


The Abbadon Mirror: Book 1 of an Etrian Ordeal

by SteamKings_FireWyrm



Series: An Etrian Ordeal [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26736886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteamKings_FireWyrm/pseuds/SteamKings_FireWyrm
Summary: The Kingdom of Etria is under attack! Orc Invaders from the south have begun ravaging the land, burning towns and slaughtering hundreds. The King of Etria has called for all abled bodies to muster at Castle Etria and help repel these invaders. Will this emergency force be enough to repel this invading force? How do the fates of a farmer's son, a foreigner, and bard just trying to get by tie into all of this? Only time will tell.
Series: An Etrian Ordeal [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946029





	The Abbadon Mirror: Book 1 of an Etrian Ordeal

Summary: Tholan prepares to leave his village, says goodbye to his father, and heads off onto the main Etrian road. He stops at a tavern to rest for the night. Common thieves attempt to rob George, flee once they realize what he is. Te’rance plays lute at the local tavern, trying to earn enough money to eat and feed his sister.

Tholan tightened the last strap on his leather armour swinging his arms side to side, inspecting the fit. It was undeniably a size too large for him, it was originally his grandfather’s and Tholan was both shorter and leaner, due to his half-elven blood. With his armour on, Tholan sheathed the old sword he’d purchased from the town blacksmith, a simple piece made by hands that were more experienced shaping horseshoes and plowheads, and stepped outside of his family’s old farmstead. 

“You’re your grandfather’s spitting image.” Tholan turned to see his father, Tamrak, resting in the shade the house cast in the early morning light. “I doubt I look that much like him,” Tholan replied, gesturing to his mildly pointed ears, set between his fine silver hair. Tamrak let out a light chuckle, standing up from his spot in the shade. “So you’re heading off then?” His expression turned heavy. “I’ll be back… I’m not sure when, but I promise that I’ll return.” Tholan hugged his father tightly. 

Tholan’s father broke the hug first and put his hands on Tholan’s shoulders. “Something good needs doing out there, and just like your grandfather, you’re jumping at the opportunity to do it. Things can get bad out there, I heard the stories your grandfather would tell about the war, so make sure you don’t forget what you’re fighting for.” Tholan looked south, even from this far away the smoke from the raiders could be seen rising from beyond the treetops. “I won’t forget.” Tholan turned and began walking down the trail from his farm to one of the main Etrian roads. The King had called for volunteer soldiers to repel the invaders and Tholan would project his family’s land.

~

The warm fall day turned to a cool windy night as Tholan passed the first town closest to his farm, he wouldn’t stop here for the night, another town stood not a three hours walk from here that would be a good stopping point for the night. If he’d paced the journey correctly he’d reach Castle Etria in ten days, from there he’d join the army and they would put a stop to the Orc invasion. 

Tholan hit a dip in the road and nearly tripped, with the sun well below the horizon it had become difficult to see. Tholan brought his hand up, focusing his will, and with a quick gesture and spoken word a small ball of light formed at his fingertips, a trick his mother had taught him. He wished he could have spent more time learning magic from her before she’d had to return to the Elven forests of her homeland. 

Magic wasn’t the only thing he felt under-trained in, though. His grandfather had basic sword forms and they had spared on occasion but his health had deteriorated too quickly for him to keep training Tholan. He unconsciously gripped the pommel of his sword, the only fights he’d ever been in were with the occasional giant rat that found its way to the edges of his father’s farm. His grandfather had been a hero during Etria’s unification, Tholan would make him proud, he’d prove his mettle in battle. 

The moon was high in the sky when Tholan arrived at the roadside inn he had planned to stop at. The warm light spilling out from the windows contrasted the cool wind that blew over the rolling fields to either side of the road and seemed to almost beckon him towards the inn’s door. Tholan stepped inside and was swallowed into a warm atmosphere of raucous merriment. The whole inn was packed, mostly with travellers similar to Tholan, people answering the King’s call to war. The group was incredibly diverse, humans, elves, and even dwarves populated the inn, Tholan even saw another half-elf, wearing the vestments of a priest over armour. A Wood Elf bard played an energetic tune on a lute in the corner and the patrons of the inn seemed enwrapped in lively conversations. Tholan took a seat at a table and let the music wash over him as the stress from the day of travel washed away from him.

~~

George, newly minted priest, observed the two travellers before him with mild curiosity. The two men, unwashed and in ragged clothes, were staring intently at him, each holding tightly to a long knife pointed right at him. George wasn’t sure why they’d drawn weapons on him, he wasn’t much of a threat, especially against two people at once, but given their strange request perhaps they weren’t fully right in the mind. 

“All your gold and your cloak and boots too!” the shorter of the men demanded again. “I heard you the first time, my friend” George replied, the two men seemed to notice his accent with a note of shock, he’d been playing that down as much as possible. George undid the clasp on his cloak, it was a nice piece, a fine supple leather that kept the chill of the fall day off of him, but these two clearly were in need of better clothing and if they were desperate enough to ask a stranger for charity, then they clearly needed it more than George did. 

George tossed his cloak to the one who had spoked and began undoing the knot tying his coin purse to his belt. The priests he had briefly met had given him a serious amount of money, but he could probably find more on his way to Castle Etria. As he tossed his coin purse to the other man he noticed both of them staring at him in abject shock and horror, the taller one not even noticing the coin purse as it bounced off of him and onto the ground. He followed their line of sight down to the raven sigil stitched onto the vestments he wore under his cloak. 

“I’m afraid I cannot give you that, my friends, as the one who gave it to me seemed very adamant I keep it on me whenever possible.” The two men took several steps back as they noticed George’s rapier and buckler, which had also been hidden by the cloak. He looked between the two of them, they seemed terrified for some reason. As he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, the taller of the two turned and began to flee, immediately followed by the shorter one. George checked behind him to ensure no hideous beast or horrid abomination had been lurking behind him and scaring the two. There was nothing there but the open road. George leaned over and picked up his coin purse from where the beggar had dropped it and tied it back to his belt

George shook his head, this new land certainly held some curious characters. First, those priests who had, honestly, been very demanding, and now these two beggars who seemed scared to death by his vestments and weapons. Perhaps they weren’t used to seeing priests carry weapons. None of the priests from that church had carried any blades larger than a belt knife but even after they had pressed George into joining their order and swearing allegiance to the Raven Queen, they didn’t seem bothered by him carrying his weapons. 

George shook his head and pushed those thoughts out of his head, it wouldn’t do to think about such oddities, he had bigger mysteries to ponder, such as who this Raven Queen was, or why she had supposedly chosen George to be one of her champions. The priests had gone on and on about gods and the path of the chosen but George had absorbed very little of it. “You must make haste to Castle Etria, the King calls for soldiers and you must be foremost among them.” That was the only thing that had really stuck in George’s mind, barely a month in this new land and he was already being conscripted back into a military. At least it would be better than Slovenia, his homeland.

~ 

It was nearly nightfall by the time George found himself in front of a roadside Inn. He figured this would be as good a place to stop and rest as any. George felt the warm welcoming energy of the Inn envelop him. A Wood Elf bard played warm and happy music in one corner and several patrons were already getting deep into their drinks.

George traded a silver coin for a tankard of ale at the bar, before coming to a realization. He looked up at the barkeep, “Are priests allowed to drink?” He said, playing his accent down as much as possible. The barkeep gave him a long look, switching from his embroidered vestments to his face before saying very slowly “y-yes…” George nodded at that and took a drink, beginning to unwind from a long day of travel.

~~

Te’rance strummed at his lute, filling the main room of the Inn with a warm, inviting energy. He watched as the patrons of the Inn started to relax and settle into the atmosphere he was carefully crafting. He looked over to where his younger sister, Maracy, sat, enjoying a bowl of stew and kicking her feet in time to his playing. He then looked over to where the barkeep stood, catching his eye and getting an encouraging nod. 

This gig had been a real lifesaver for Te’rance and with the steady flow of travellers making their way to Castle Etria to fight the Orc Invaders the inn had been doing very good business lately. The barkeep had been very excited when Te’rance had shown up several weeks ago, having a real bard playing instead of a plain musician was a huge boon, especially out in the middle of nowhere like this. Te’rance had managed to get free room and board for him and his sister so long as he kept playing every night.

Te’rance weaved subtle bardic magic into his playing, trying to craft a delicate but energetic atmosphere for the patrons to enjoy. He was still just feeling grateful he wouldn’t need to worry about scrounging up enough money for his and his sister’s next meal or finding a warm and dry place to try and sleep. Leaving Castle Etria, finding somewhere smaller, where bards were rarer had been a really good idea. Even if he wasn’t the most skilled bard to ever live here he was at least a bard, and that would allow him to earn enough to keep him and his sister warm and fed. 

Te’rance smiled to himself, allowing himself to get swept up in the atmosphere he had been cultivating in the inn. The sun had set hours ago now, and he’d only be playing for another hour at most before he could call it a night. Te’rance felt something pushing up against the atmosphere he’d been creating in the inn, something just outside of the inn. Just as he felt this new presence he heard guttural shouting coming from outside and could smell the sudden, strong smell of smoke. The inn was under attack.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading the first chapter in what I hope will someday be a complete story! This is loosely based off of a D&D game I played in a few years ago (see if you can figure out which of the three POVs was my character) and I plan on this being a (roughly) 14 chapter "novel" that is the first part of a trilogy. I'm not an experienced writer and this is my first attempt at long-form fiction so it's probably pretty rough around the edges. Any reviews or advice is super welcome! Thanks a ton :D


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